


Introspection

by cacreety



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, accidental arson, i dont know the topography of yharnam, nat is the queen binch, the real reason gehrman doesnt like him is bc he molotov'd him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-02-13 11:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cacreety/pseuds/cacreety
Summary: If you're not careful you might become one of them.





	1. Implications

**Author's Note:**

> Collection of drabbles/vignettes, might continue if the right inspiration hits (if so, rating and warnings will change with updates). Sidenote: first post????will i keep writing???who knows

The air at the higher elevation was chill and crisp, and snow coated the barren landscape. Every so often the skittering of a something unknown through the underbrush would break the tense silence. Over the precipice Yharnam was just barely visible, its dark buildings nestled in the valley below, punctuated by red licks of flame. Meanwhile, the malevolent figure of Castle Cainhurst dominated the horizon.

The snow crunched under Grimma’s boots. It would be difficult to infiltrate the fortress-like castle; Alfred had been searching for an in for ages and had been unsuccessful, “ _So what are the chances of me getting in, then?_ ” he thought. He had studied the maps, but he was unfamiliar with the region and felt lost. Gehrman had not provided any advice this time around, as Grimma had hoped he would—the old hunter appeared to be avoiding him. Not that Grimma could blame him, after the battle against the Vicar Amelia he had not been the most polite…

_CRASH_

The sudden noise turned Grimma on his heels and he drew his weapon in preparation against the oncoming threat. The underbrush to his left rustled. He dug his heels into the ground, bracing for impact. Suddenly, a massive horned shape burst forth from the foliage. The beast bellowed, its figure illuminated by the moonlight--an elk. Grimma lowered his weapon and sighed, both relieved and disappointed by the revelation. As he watched the elk bound away he was tormented by a familiar worry: Why had disappointment been among his first thoughts? He hadn’t been particularly itching for a fight, and anyways, avoidance was usually the best line of defense in this sort of work. The implications were troubling. “It’s not that I enjoy it,” Grimma muttered to himself, “I’m just being pragmatic is all. The less beasts, the less danger there is.” In truth, however, he had been far more ruthless than pragmatic—bloodthirsty even—and he was well aware of it.


	2. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you do things you're not proud of.

“Do you truly expect me to believe that?”

He hadn’t, and she knew it as well. The question was bitterly rhetorical. Grimma glowered at Natalie, thankful that the, albeit small, stone-vaulted room allowed them to keep a respectful distance from each other despite its size. He loathed to admit it but Natalie never failed to inspire within him a twinge of fear. She was at once both an unstoppable force and an immovable object, filled to the brim with an unyielding, righteous anger. The holy blade at her hip was a suiting weapon, Grimma thought.

 “Yes. Because it’s the truth,” Lying to her so blatantly was just short of suicide, “Old Henryk killed her. I tried to help, but I was too late.”

Cold laughter echoed off the walls of the Odeon Chapel, “Really. You’re no better than those beasts outside,” Natalie leaned forward, and her eyes met Grimma’s, “You just didn’t want her coming after you next.”


	3. Execution

Grimma trudged through the streets of central Yharnam, clutching his arm. It was getting worse. Ever since the moon had turned that maddening shade of red, the pain had become more frequent and intense. When it came it would roll down his limbs and into his extremities, leaving him shaking, like a terrible breaker wave. The pain, however, was nothing compared to the ringing. The ringing, usually a vaguely noticeable background noise, rose to a deafening crescendo when the scent of blood became too powerful. It threatened to overwhelm his senses, obliterate his rational thought. He often thought to himself that he would gladly take double the pain, if only he could stop the ringing and calm his mind.

Grimma stumbled, and leaning against a house wall for support, stopped a moment to gather his bearings. Up ahead, in one of the alleys, came the tell-tale sounds of foraging beasts. Grimma begrudgingly reached for his sword; each bloody battle left him increasingly disorientated and exhausted. How long would this hunt possibly go on, he wondered. Summoning his strength, and taking a deep breath, Grimma pushed himself away from the wall and approached the alley entrance. Before he could round the corner, however, the metallic slicing and beastly death-knells were already occurring. He peered around the wall. Standing amid the carnage, was a blonde-haired woman, dressed in the elegant garb typical of the Cainhurst knights. She regarded the bodies around her with disdain, turning one over with her boot to examine it.

 _Shit, SHIT, she’s still here. Why is she still here?_ Grimma began to back away, but kicked a piece of rubble in the process. The other hunter’s head snapped towards the sound, and spying Grimma, her eyes narrowed sharply. “ _You_ ,” she growled, lips curling in a snarl.

“Natalie….hey,” Grimma raised his hands as Natalie advanced towards him, sword still unsheathed, “what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Uh, well,” Grimma fumbled for an explanation, but the scent of Natalie’s recent massacre was beginning to fog his brain. He could hear the ringing getting louder. What _was_ he doing here? There had obviously been a reason for him to trudge all the way here from the Forbidden Woods, but he found himself unable to recall it.

“Because last I heard,” Natalie’s increasing proximity forced Grimma away from the wall, “you were off to Byrgenwerth after your little stunt in the clinic. Didn’t Rundola spend enough of his time trying to fix you up?” She scowled.

“Rundola?” Grimma tried to recall the melancholic church doctor, “Oh, yes, Rundola…Yes, he tried to help…like the good doctor he is,” Grimma felt a painful tremor shiver through his left arm, “however, as you can see, his efforts didn’t quite…succeed.”

No response.

“Still a bit of a mess, hehehe…” Grimma felt a nervous laughter begin to bubble up under Natalie’s cold gaze. He didn’t like the way he could see the cogs in her mind turning, the scornful way in which she was appraising him. Suddenly, Natalie struck out, the blade of her sword rushing past his head. He’d noticed her move just in time, and staggered backwards.

“I told you what would happen if you came back here,” she hissed, and aimed to swing her blood-covered weapon once more. Grimma brought his own up to meet hers, and the force of the collision sent vibrations down the hilt. He parried another blow.

“I’m just passing through!” Grimma shouted over the clashing of metal, “let me go, and I won’t cause any trouble! We don’t have to do this!” The fight had just begun but already he could feel his arms growing numb; there was no way he could keep up with her like this. The pain, the ringing, the exhaustion—it was all too much. The next blow sent Grimma wheeling, his sword knocked from his hands. He hit the ground hard. Looking up, he could see the tip of Natalie’s sword pointed directly at his face.

“Are you going to kill me, Natalie?” Grimma panted, fighting to raise himself up, “I thought that went against your Hippocratic Oath…’do no harm’ and all that, eh?”

“Oh dear,” Natalie sneered contemptuously down at him, “it seems you’ve gotten this entire situation rather skewed. You’re not the patient— You’re the disease.”


End file.
